


Move Me

by roxyeisen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 22:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14342610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyeisen/pseuds/roxyeisen
Summary: What is Scully thinking as she sneaks out of Mulder's apartment on that fateful night revealed in All Things?





	Move Me

I don’t know what I was afraid of more. That when it was over I would feel like everything had changed between us? Or that it would all still be unresolved? Awkward?

Lying here in my best friend’s bed as he sleeps, I realize it’s all of the above. 

I’m afraid to move. He is close to me, breathing next to my shoulder. It causes my skin to prickle with goosebumps, but I don’t move the blanket. I’m afraid he’ll wake up. I’m afraid he’ll feel as weird as I do at this moment.

I don’t think either of us ever had a moment where we believed this couldn’t happen. Even when we were new partners just setting out on our journey together, there was an understood acceptance that of a something between us that went deeper than friendship and partnership. You don’t feel your stomach jump into your throat when your friend or partner touches the small of your back or leans close to whisper something private in your ear. You don’t have that secret hope every time you are alone that your friend or your partner will touch your hand, or push the hair behind your ear, or even, in the right time and place, kiss your lips.

It’s not as if that hasn’t happened. And the few times we have kissed, it has been an introduction. I could feel the part of us that wants more, that always wanted more, whispering a warning. That we should be prepared, because we had reached the absolute capacity for platonic activity.

Lying here, I realize it was my idea to throw every last ounce of caution to the wind. He had left me on the couch and went to get ready for bed. I could have slipped out the door and gone home and everything would still be the same between us. I’ve done it at least a dozen times before, he wouldn’t have thought anything of it. He would have called me in the morning, probably before I was ready to get out of bed, and asked me if I wanted to spend Sunday with him as we spend every other day together. Everything would still be the same.

But I didn’t go to the door, I didn’t walk down the hallway I know as well as my own, I didn’t take the elevator down and walk to my car. I went to the door of his room.

I took a step inside. He was in the bathroom brushing his teeth, so I came into his room and looked around. It was as untidy as I remembered, but at least he was sleeping in a bed these days. He used to have this room so packed he had to sleep on his couch. He didn’t even own a bed. Then all of the sudden he has a giant waterbed with a mirror. I don’t know what to make of that. When the waterbed broke, he replaced it with a normal, grown-up bed. Why?

As I stood there, he came out of the bathroom. He was surprised to see me standing there. He had taken off his shirt, but he didn’t seem ashamed of his body. I didn’t mind looking, either.

“Why did you buy a bed?” I asked, feeling daring. Feeling like it was time to turn to a new chapter, even if I was unprepared, even if it was jolting or tragic. I needed a new chapter. I’d read the old one so many times my mind was numb with sameness.

He didn’t answer for a long moment. In fact, he returned to the bathroom to rinse off his toothbrush before he came back and sat on the end of the bed, still considering my question.

“I don’t know. I guess I got used to sleeping in one.”

He met my eyes directly, and I knew he was telling me that wasn’t the real reason. That I should feel free to guess the real reason, because it was what I was thinking.

I look down at the floor. “I should go home.”

I waited. Wondered if he’d say anything. Stop me. But at the same time I knew it wasn’t Mulder’s way. He’s not an initiator. And for me to expect him to be has never worked out very well for us in the past. I have only ended up frustrated and disappointed. I’ve come to the conclusion that if I want us on a new page, I’m going to have to be the one to turn it.

“Mulder, will you always be here?” I came to sit next to him on the bed. Close enough that we are touching.

“Here, in this apartment? I hope not.” He joked because he knew I was trying to ask a serious question. Again, it is Mulder’s way.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes.” He didn’t question why I asked it. He didn’t hesitate in answering. 

“Even if things were to change? We’d stick together?”

He gave me a lopsided grin. “Through thick or thin. Rain or shine.”

I smiled at his cheesy comment. And felt adrenaline pumping and my heart racing as I reached my hand to place it on his leg.

“Can I stay?”

I expected to see surprise in his eyes. But I didn’t. I just saw his gentle smile, so familiar to me it makes my heart ache to look at it. His eyes searched mine and he nodded.

Then he had no trouble taking my face in his hands and kissing me breathless. And the rest naturally unfolded, sweet and quiet and exactly what you might expect it to be when best friends fall in love.

But now, as I lie here, I’m anxious, and I can’t really pinpoint the reason. Did we make a mistake? Should I have listened to my Sunday School lessons and made him walk me down the aisle and sign a paper first? That seems trite, in light of everything we have gone through together. There is no lack of commitment, respect or love between Mulder and me. To even think that there could be anyone else for either of us is laughable. It was “till death we do part” long before we shared this bed.

No, it’s not a lack of commitment that gives me unease tonight.

Maybe it’s just the newness. The uncertainty of how things will play out from this moment on. 

I should wake him up. Snuggle right up to his chest and kiss his skin and tell him everything I want for us. But I don’t. I lose my nerve. Instead, I slowly and painstakingly get out of bed and tiptoe to the bathroom, terrified he’ll wake. I get dressed. 

Leave.

Because that feels normal. Here I am, in the new chapter, doing what feels normal.

And yet I know as I walk down that oh, so familiar hallway, everything has changed. I can feel it in the very heart of me. I will never be the same Dana Scully.

You move me, Mulder. You move me out of my comfort, fling me into the unknown, with no thought for how and why and should and maybe. You require all of me, more than I even knew existed. You urge me along even as you delight me, protect me, lead me into a starry universe blazing with danger and promise.

What will the next turn reveal? I’m sick with eager anticipation. And dread. But don’t stop moving me. Don’t stop urging me along. I can’t get enough of you, my soulmate, my friend, my lover.

Move me.


End file.
